


The Bigger Man

by checkthemargins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Angst, Romance, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Louis's summer holiday in Ireland is cut short due to an unexpected request from the biological father he's never met, he returns to London only to discover that his flatmate, Zayn, has rented out his room to a curly-haired mouth-breather called Harry Styles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bigger Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flimsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/gifts).



> This is for [Nika](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy). I love you and I'm so sorry there is no porn. I promise a timestamp at a later date. I hope you enjoy!

**The Bigger Man**

Louis goes to the hospital straight from the airport and he's a bit late, because his flight was delayed. He's shown into an office with medical certifications on the wall and confronted head on with a nephrologist and a shrink. 

"Thank you," he says, belatedly to the nurse who showed him in and who has already left. He makes a face. "Sorry, hi " He gives a little wave and then remembers he's an adult, and shakes their hands instead.

"Hi Louis," says Dr. Wilson. She's younger than she sounded on the phone and looks nothing like he pictured. She's brunette, for one, and taller than he expected. It always mixes him up when people don't match up to their voices. Her grip is firm. "Thanks so much for coming in, I know you're cutting your summer holiday short."

He's been in Ireland with his mate Niall for just over month, helping him with his photography portfolio by traveling all over the bloody country and posing with a few other of Niall's mates. Being the central inspiration behind incredible art is something that Louis's really into. Hanging around with Niall eating a lot of pizza and barbeque and drinking too much is something that he's even _more_ into. 

He received the call just a week ago, and went through the compatibility testing at a hospital in Ireland. He supposes he never _really_ thought he'd be a match.

"This is Dr. Elisa Baker. She's a counselor here at the hospital."

"Nice to meet you," says Louis. Dr. Baker is a bit older than his mum, probably, and she wears her hair down and has quite a large diamond on her wedding ring. She doesn't _look_ like she's lying in wait to grill him about his feelings but everything he knows of psychologists he's seen on telly.

"You too," she says, smiling. "You look a bit frightened, love."

"This isn't a special case," Dr. Wilson says, walking back around her desk to sit down. Dr. Baker takes her seat next to the desk as well and Louis drops into the one chair left. "Meeting with a counselor is standard procedure for any potential donor."

Louis nods, more settled. "Oh, that makes more sense. Here I was wondering what Troy possibly could've said about me."

"Oh, no, not that at all. He hasn't said very much about you, honestly."

Louis shrugs. "He wouldn't really know."

Dr. Baker's smile softens. Louis digs his fingernails into his palms.

They talk for about half an hour. Dr. Wilson explains everything entailed with the surgery, which will be open and keep him in the hospital for four to six days, as well as the risks included. Louis's been looking all of this up on the internet since he was first contacted, but he doesn't mention that. He's jittery and trying not to be. He bites his thumbnail down to the quick and nods seriously when it feels right. She also explains that, as his father has to quit smoking for a full month before the surgery and Louis himself needs to go without drinking for thirty days prior, the operation will tentatively take place in four weeks.

Dr. Baker speaks with him alone after. She's very nice, and it's very awkward. 

"You're under no obligation to do this," she tells him kindly. "I know that you and your father are estranged."

"I just don't really know him,," Louis says. "I've only met him once, when I was really young."

"This isn't something you owe him, or anyone else in your family. This affects _your_ life, and there is no wrong decision."

"I know," Louis answers. "I don't mind it. He's got, uh, y'know. He's got a family and stuff."

"He does, but they're not your responsibility either. The thing I really want you to think about is that the only feelings you're responsible for are your own."

"I know. I've thought about it. I want to do it."

She looks at him for a very long time, and then nods and pats his knee. "All right, then."

Before he leaves, he asks, "Do I have to, like. Do I have to meet his family?"

"Not if you don't want to," she says delicately. "They've requested to meet with you, but it's not necessary."

"I don't want to," Louis says at once. He feels small and young and silly. It's sort of shit, really, this whole situation. She looks sympathetic. He'd really like to leave. "Bye, then."

"Bye Louis."

 

 

There's a bare-arsed mouth-breather in his bed. The duvet is on the floor, the sheets wrapped around one long leg. He's pale and he's got a mop of curly hair and he's hung like a horse, or gorilla, or elephant, or some mammoth animal. He's on his front and his legs are spread a bit. His big balls are actually so hypnotic that Louis ends up standing right at the edge of the bed, head tilted and staring, before he remembers that there's a stranger in his bed. He drops his rucksack and walks across the room to collect his life-size toy light saber. It's double ended and red, because he's a Sith lord. He extends one end and, from a safe distance, prods the sleeping stranger in the arse.

He snuffles and turns his head. He's got a pretty face. It's been a long time since Louis's had a pretty boy in his bed; this level of mocking on God's part is just cruel. Louis prods him a couple more times in the bum, and then moves up to his ribs. That works better, the guy is ticklish. Louis prods him there loads of times until he grumbles and curls up a bit and lifts his head, and then the rest of his upper body. His hair is startlingly stiff with too much hairspray and he has big green eyes and very pink lips. He's both lovely and a bit like a cartoon character. He's got tattoos all over one of his arms and chest and he has a pair of really lovely big nipples. Louis's always been very into nipples.

The pretty boy blinks at him, and then his eyebrows draw together and he looks very confused. "Uh," he says. His voice is deep. "Hi?"

"Mouth-Breather," Louis replies, wielding his light saber in a threatening manner. He belatedly remembers that he himself looks completely shit after six very stressful days and a flight squeezed between a woman and her belligerent husband. It makes him grip his weapon more fiercely. "'ve got a few questions."

The kid blinks again, and then sits up properly, cross-legged and facing Louis. His willy is just right there, like, waving in the breeze as he settles. He grins. "Are you Louis, then?"

"No."

"Are you lying?" asks the stranger. "Only there's a picture of you and your family on your desk."

"Could be PhotoShopped," says Louis. It distracts the kid enough that Louis can formulate a plan of escape. Has he been stalked? Is this some stalker? Zayn's not always great about locking the door. "Look, Mouth-Breather-"

"Harry," says apparently Harry. Louis doesn't answer and Harry points at himself. "My name."

"Your name?"

"Is Harry."

"Oh." Louis looks at him for a long time. "You're naked in my bed."

"Well, I mean," says Harry, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. He shrugs and drops his hands to his lap. He's got big hands. "Yeah."

It's such an inadequate answer that Louis doesn't even know how to respond. They stare at each other for a long time. Harry doesn't appear to be about to attack, or anything, so Louis tucks in the blades of his light saber and tosses it onto a pile of clothes that aren't his on the floor.

"It's hardly noon."

"I like naps," Harry says. He uses every bit of his face to smile, even just this sleepy lazy thing he's got going now. Louis mentally draws the triangle over Harry's torso, nice broad shoulders and slim little hips. Long legs and well-endowed and already naked in his bed. Louis's living in a goddamn soap opera. Or possibly a porno.

"Hm," he says at Harry. Harry's eyeing him curiously. "Are you a friend of Zayn's, then?"

"Yeah! He's, well, do you know Nick Grim—"

"Yes." Louis rolls his eyes and Harry laughs.

"Yeah, well, he works with Zayn at Radio 1, and we're getting a flat but we don't move in until September, so—"

"Isn't Nick Grimshaw a little _old_ for you?" Louis asks. He's not a big fan of Nick Grimshaw, but he runs the bloody Breakfast Show on Radio 1 and has been a right prince to Zayn, who's dreamed of being a DJ his whole life, even if he is a twat to Louis.

"No," Harry says, grinning but stern. "We're both consenting legal adults. It'd be perfect normal and right for us to be together. Married and having sex and a million babies."

"It absolutely would," says Louis, startled.

"You shouldn't judge, Louis."

"I'm not!"

Harry's laugh is just as endearing as his face. "We're not, though, for the record. He's a friend."

"He doesn't like me much, is all. It's sort of mutual."

"Lucky for both of you that I'm not you _or_ him, so I can be friends with you both."

"We're gonna be friends then, are we?"

Harry just winks, so obviously that it makes Louis laugh. "Anyway. Two of my mates got married and wanted their own place, so I moved out. Zayn offered to let me rent out your room while you're out of the country."

It's only the fifteenth of July. Vaguely Louis remembers a conversation with Zayn about this, but he was probably drunk at the time. He frowns thoughtfully. "He didn't know I'd be coming home early."

"Yeah, he definitely didn't mention anything." Harry picks at a spot on his chin, still watching Louis. Then he slowly gets up onto his knees and leans in, stretching out a long arm to offer Louis a hand to shake. Louis does without thinking about it. Harry's hand is a lot bigger than his, and he's _naked_. "Nice to meet you, mate."

Louis smiles, helpless in the face of all these curls and weirdness. "You too." He's fucking exhausted, and he's relatively sure that Harry isn't a stalker or madman, so he unbuttons his jeans and wriggles out of them, peeling his shirt off at the same time. "We'll talk to Zayn later, figure this out, but I'm bloody knackered, so scoot over or get out, yeah?"

Harry snorts and—as somehow Louis knew that he would—scoots over to one side of the bed and shakes out the duvet to spread it out evenly. Louis lifts an eyebrow. "Really? You're not even going to put pants on?"

"I can't sleep in pants. They stifle my creative flow."

Louis is ninety-nine percent positive that he's dreamed all of this up. Exhaustion induced hallucination. Because people like this don't actually exist in real life. He climbs into bed and drops onto his stomach, groaning at how good it feels to be in his own bed.

"Aw, yeah. S'always nice to be home after you've been away a bit," says Harry. He already sounds sleepy again. "You make good, like, sounds. Satisfied sounds."

"Are you joking?"

"Not in a sex way," Harry clarifies. "Well, maybe in a sex way, I wouldn't know, but in general. Not like good orgasm satisfied but like, really good stretch satisfied. Or how you feel after a really good workout."

"I don't work out," Louis drawls. He can't tear his eyes off Harry, sprawled on his back next to him, blinking at him with his big eyes and looking sleepy and happy.

"You don't need to," Harry says. "I mean, it's healthy and stuff."

"And stuff."

"Yeah, but you're well fit, is what I mean."

"Is this you flirting?"

"You walked into my life by poking me with a light saber," Harry answers. His grin's so big Louis has to look away from it. "So like, yeah."

Louis buries his face in his pillow to hide the way his cheeks are coloring. "Go to sleep, weirdo."

 

 

Harry is gone when Louis wakes up, but there's a sticky note on his door that says, "Off to work, see you later! xxx" in loopy handwriting and Zayn is on the sofa eating Doritos and watching Law and Order. Louis flops onto him obnoxious and kissing his cheeks and nose and licks his forehead until Zayn shoves him off.

"Welcome back, arsehole."

"Thanks. Sorry I didn't ring."

"S'okay, Niall did. Yesterday."

"Hm," says Louis. Zayn wraps an arm around him and strokes his hair for a bit while they watch the end of the episode, and then Louis pulls back to steal some of Zayn's crisps and settles himself up comfortably into the corner of the sofa. "You rented my room out."

Zayn smirks. "Yeah, I saw you two all cuddled up. That didn't take long."

"Are you implying I'm easy?" Louis gasps, hand to chest.

"'Course not," says Zayn.

Louis does his best to sound casual. "Are you implying he is, then?"

"Harry? No, no, he's just charming, isn't he? Could seduce the clergy an' all that."

Louis breathes out a tired giggle, rolling his head along the low back of the sofa. He had a very nice sleep next to Zayn's dotty friend, but he still feels exhausted. "But he doesn't bother to use it?"

"Nah, not that I've seen. Apparently he messed around a lot in sixth form, if that counts? But he'd been in a relationship with this girl Caroline for the last three years and they just ended things a few months back."

"Hm."

Zayn side-eyes him. "You want to fuck him, don't you?"

"Very much." Though, after seeing his package up close and personal, it's rather the other way around.

Zayn cracks a smile. "He said he doesn't mind taking the sofa, or staying with Ed. I introduced him to Ed. They're best mates now."

"He can stay here," says Louis. "If he doesn't mind sharing."

The telly is a pleasant mumble in the background. Louis lets his eyes close, and a few moments later Zayn's arm slips around his shoulders. He lets himself be pulled into Zayn's bony side. "D'you want to talk about it?" Zayn asks.

Louis shakes his head. In general, he loves to talk about his feelings. He loves to be funny and he loves to go on and on about how infatuated he is with any thing or person that catches his fancy. He likes to complain about things quite a lot, even months after they've inconvenienced him, and he likes when all the attention in a room is centered on him. This is possibly the most inconvenient thing that's ever happened to him, giving up a kidney for a man he hardly knows.

"I'm meeting him for lunch tomorrow. Should be interesting."

"Downright awkward, even," Zayn offers. Louis pinches his side hard enough that Zayn yelps and shoves him away again. Louis cackles, slipping off the sofa and onto the floor, splaying himself out between the sofa and coffee table. Zayn nudges him with his socked feet. "You should come out tonight, then. We'll gather everyone. Harry too, once he's off work.; you can work your way into his trousers. It'll be fun."

Louis considers. It's most likely his last chance to get well and truly plastered before the ban on all things fun prior to surgery. "All right."

"Good lad," says Zayn. He nudges Louis in the ribs with his toes again. "But you've got to shower first, mate, you smell rank."

Louis flips him. It's good to be home.

 

 

They go to a club instead of a bar, because Louis is the guest of honor and he wants to dance. He and Zayn are late, naturally, and their friends have already staked out a table in the lounge area big enough for all of them to squeeze into. Zayn's girlfriend Perrie, his ex-boyfriend and Louis's childhood friend Liam, as well as Liam's girlfriend Jade, who is Perrie's roommate, are already there when they arrive.. And so is Harry, looking incredible in jeans so tight they look painted on and a black button-up shirt. Louis tugs at the hem of his own t-shirt and gives Harry a ridiculous, over-the-top wink over Perrie's shoulder when she rushes to embrace him.

"Louis! Welcome home!"

"Hiya Pez," he says, kissing her cheek.

"How are you?" she asks, and Louis knows Zayn's filled her in. "Are you all right? How's Niall? How's his project? I've been texting him for hours every day but he won't send me any of his photographs. You look wonderful, you've got some sun."

"How can you even tell that in this lighting?" Louis asks.

"I'm intuitive about these things. Have you met Harry? He's been living in your room. That's him there." She points.

"We've already shared a bed," Harry says loudly over the music. Liam and Jade have identical startled looks on their faces and Zayn rolls his eyes. Harry's smile is very sweet. "We're very close already."

Once Louis's hugged Jade and Liam, who he's known practically since birth, he squeezes into the booth next to Harry and pounds both hands on the table once. "All right, kids, Tommo's back in town."

"Time to do it up right!" Perrie shouts. "It's been so dull without you whenever we go out, Lou."

"Hey!" Harry protests, mouth frowning and brow furrowing grumpily. "I'm plenty fun!"

"Of course you are, darling," says Perrie. "You're very fun and nice to look at."

Harry grins. "Thanks, Pezza."

"Of course, muffin."

Louis clears his throat. "I'm sure you're a right good time, love, but you haven't done things the Tommo way yet."

Harry lifts an eyebrow. "The Tommo way? What's that?"

"It means we start with sake bombs and three shots," says Liam, looking disapproving. 

Jade beams at them all. "I've already ordered the sake bombs."

Louis takes care of ordering the round of shots, and Harry stares at him curiously once they've downed their sake bombs (thoroughly shaming Liam when he had to take a break before fully finishing his beer) and he's put their next order in. "It's three-fold," Louis tells Harry. They're sitting so close together that Harry's face is _right there_ , all eyes and pink mouth. "We start with tequila, because it's foul and does the trick better'n most.. Sometimes it's body shots. If you'd like it to be body shots, me an' you, we can do body shots." He wiggles his eyebrows at him and Harry sips at whatever cocktail he was drinking from earlier and wets his lips quite slowly. His thigh is pressed right up along Louis's, a solid heat against his leg. "Then we do Fireball whisky, to burn out the tequila taste. Then lemon drops for dessert."

Harry shakes his head. "I'm a total lightweight. I'll be drunk."

"We'll all be drunk. That's the idea," says Zayn on Harry's other side. 

"And then we dance," Louis says.

"I'm a horrible dancer," Harry warns.

"S'all right. Not really all that interested in your footwork."

Harry laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. Louis hasn't been laid in fucking months and he has so many plans for this kid it's making his head spin. 

When the shots come in, everyone but Harry downs the tequila. As tradition requires, they exaggerated their tequila faces at each other and squabble over the limes in the center of the table. Louis doesn't realize that Harry hasn't participated until Liam points at him. "Hey, Hazza, what's up? You have to play too!"

"Yeah, Hazza," Louis echoes, "you have to play too."

"I was promised a body shot," Harry says in his poshest posh accent. "No takesy backsies."

"Christ, mate, you're like a twelve year old," Zayn says.

"Quite savvy for a twelve year old, isn't he?" Perrie offers. "Body shots and all."

The others laugh, but Harry's got this look on his face like he's going to pin Louis down and eat him alive and Louis's whole body feels lit up from it. "I did promise, didn't I?"

Harry grins and reaches for the salt shaker, and Louis holds very still as Harry touches his jaw and coaxes him to tilt his head to the side. His eyes flutter closed when Harry leans in, ducks his head to nose at Louis's neck. His breath is hot, damp, and he touches a sweet kiss to the tender skin of his throat before the flat of his tongue swipes across. 

"Jesus," he hears one of the girls say, but he can hardly force his eyes open again. Harry's got a smirk on his face. He's still got a hand on Louis's cheek, cupping the entire side of his face, fingertips pushing into Louis's hair a bit.

"Look at how smug you are," Louis mutters. Harry just makes eyebrows at him and holds him still to pout some salt over the spot he licked. "Ready?"

"I'm not the one taking the shot, genius."

Harry moves his hand to cover Louis's mouth, instead, and the next lap of his tongue over Louis's skin is faster, less tease, and Louis opens his eyes to watch Harry knock back the tequila and shove his lime wedge into his mouth. 

"A little erotic for a family place like this," Jade says, elbow propped on the table and chin in her hand. "Hot, though."

"I need a cigarette after that," Perrie adds.

"I think we all do," says Liam.

Louis ignores them, watching Harry, who gives a stupid lime-wedge smile and nudges Louis's leg with his own under the table. He lifts his glass of Fireball whisky and addresses the table. "Next then? Tommo way?"

It sounds like a challenge. Louis _loves_ a challenge.

Two shots and six mojitos later, it turns out that Harry is a few inches taller than Louis, that Louis's shoulders fit into the frame of Harry's, that Harry's an eager, handsy, possessive drunk. The dance floor is packed for a Thursday night and they're right in the center, dirty grinding to some shit song. Louis's just drunk enough, he feels on top of the world, and Harry's so hot at his back, feels so big against his arse. Louis's a little chubbed up in his jeans himself just from this. 

Harry's got one hand on his hip, the other on his belly, and they're both horrible dancers. Harry trips over Louis's feet, apologizes as Louis laughs and turns around. They stay pressed tight together. Louis loops his arms around Harry's neck and Harry wraps him up in a bloody hug., arms tight around Louis's middle They're not even dancing anymore, just swaying like idiots in the middle of the floor.

"You know, for someone who doesn't like his _creativity_ to be stifled, you wear remarkably tight trousers."

Harry chuckles into Louis's ear. "I wanted to ask you out. I wanted to take you on a proper date, and open doors for you and pay for dinner and like, hold your hand and stuff."

"And stuff," Louis murmurs into Harry's shoulder, mostly to himself, face and ears burning.

"I really like you, Louis Tomlinson. You make me laugh and you're surprising and I think you're _keen_."

"A proper dreamboat," says Louis. Harry nods, nosing at Louis's cheek.

"I wanted to do that. I still want to do that, proper date, but right now I just—" His hands slide down Louis's back and find his bum and squeeze and Harry lets out a filthy moan right into Louis's ear. "God, right now I want you so bad. I want to do so many things to you."

It's clumsy as far as dirty talk goes, but heartfelt and scorching hot in Harry's deep, raspy voice. He sounds desperate for it, groping Louis's arse, mouthing at his neck. Louis knows next to nothing about him. He wets his lips and twists his fingers into Harry's hair.

"Best take me home and show me what ya got, love."

 

 

They snog the next morning. Pretty much wake up like that, Harry mouth-breathing his way to Louis's lips and pushing his tongue into Louis's mouth. It tastes awful and feels amazing. Louis's sore, and Harry's smiling. He looks good in Louis's bed. Technically Harry's bed, since he's paying rent also. In fact, with both of them paying rent, Zayn must have a lot of extra cash lined up. Louis should get his cut of that.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Harry asks. His voice is wrecked from sucking Louis off last night, his mouth still red and chapped from kissing. 

"How much money I'm making off you subletting my room."

Harry makes a face. Louis makes one back. "What are you really thinking about?"

"Being a talk show host," Louis says. 

"Really?"

"Ladies and gentleman!" Louis calls out to an imaginary audience in his presenter voice. It's loud but Harry doesn't startle. Louis's not quite used to that. When he first met Liam, Liam spent a few months in a constant state of paranoia for random outbursts of noise and mayhem from Louis. Harry seems to be taking it well in stride. "This is Louis 'the Tommo' Tomlinson. Today we've got the one and only Harry Styles with us, twelve time Academy Award winner and author of his autobiography _I'm Curly and I Know It_. Tell us Harry, how does it feel to be an international success?"

They're lying side by side facing each other. Louis shoves his fist, loose around his fake microphone, right under Harry's chin. Harry cups Louis's knuckles with his palm and lifts his head a bit to speak into it. "Well, Tommo, as a twelve-time Academy Award winner—which, if I do say so myself, is pretty flattering as a young man fresh out of culinary school—I have to say that being me feels pretty, like. Good."

Louis blinks. "'Good?'

Harry rolls onto his back, covering his face with his hands. "I'm not very clever."

Louis laughs delightedly and climbs atop him, tugging at Harry's wrists until uncovers his eyes. He's hungover and really cute. His curls are a mess. He's got love bites on his neck and collarbones, another over one of the swallows tattooed into his chest. "You're very clever. And quirky."

"Quirky?" Harry looks pleased with that. Louis snorts.

"The quirkiest."

Harry sits up, big hands pawing up Louis's sides. Louis's skin goosepimples up. He feels small against Harry like this, with Harry's hand spanning the full width of his back. He has to go to lunch with Troy today. It's kind of nice to feel small against Harry.

"How about dinner tonight?" Harry murmurs. He presses his lips to Louis's cheek, just in front of his ear, and his fingers settle into the dips between his vertebrae. 

"Are you really in culinary school?" 

Harry grins, pushing his fingertips against Louis's mouth so Louis will kiss them. "Yeah, I've got one more year."

"Just talking about it makes you smile," Louis tells him, bites his bottom lip when Harry's dimples show in his cheeks. 

"It's, yeah. It's like, I really love it. My mate Lou—Louisa—and I are going to open a restaurant. We've already got financing lined up and everything. We've been looking for a place in the city. And I mean it 's such a huge risk, will bankrupt us both if it fails. But I'm really, like, excited." He's precious, is what he is. He beams up at Louis. "What about you? You've got one year left too, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm studying to be a drama teacher."

"Aw, man, you'll be a _great_ drama teacher."

Louis laughs. "How would you know that? You hardly know me."

"I'm intuitive about these things! But now that you mention it, I suppose we don't really know much about each other." Harry looks very serious for a moment, like he's concentrating, and then he nods. "Right then, we should play the question game."

"The question game?"

"It's where we ask each other questions about our lives and hobbies and psyche Hey, do you know what a great setting for the question game is? A date. Tonight. You and me." He shrugs, all mock-casual. "I know a place."

"I bet you do, curly."

Harry kisses the bottom of Louis's chin and flutters his eyelashes, possibly on purpose but most likely just an inherent part of being Harry Styles. "What d'you say then?"

Louis sighs. "Well who can say no to that face?"

"No one. Literally no one. It's a date."

They shake on it.

 

 

Lunch is at a café a few minutes tube ride from the hospital. Louis doesn't know how to dress, so he wears a t-shirt and jeans. It's beautiful out. Troy is already there when he arrives. Louis has one picture of him that he hasn't looked at in years. Maybe only a couple years since he last looked, when Mark left his mum and it got Louis nostalgic about being left behind. He might as well have _Daddy Issues_ tattooed on his forehead.

Troy was only nineteen in that picture, and he looks older and ill now but he's got the blue eyes and thin lips that Louis sees in the mirror everyday. He stands up as Louis approaches. There's this very awkward moment where Troy goes in like he might hug him, but he looks at least as uncomfortable as Louis feels. It sort of sets the mood.

"I just ordered water," says Troy. "I wasn't sure what you liked."

"Water is fine."

Troy nods. He folds his hands on the table, and then drops them into his lap. "I just wanted to. I thought we should talk."

They don't, really. They talk about the weather and the dog outside. Louis orders a salad he doesn't want and Troy has to take a few pills with his lunch. He coughs a smoker's cough and he can't look Louis in the eye. Not until the very end of the meal. It feels like it's been hours.

"Louis," Troy starts. He looks sad. He looks unwell. "I just. I know I'm not good at this, but I wanted to say thank you. Even for just agreeing to get tested. I know I have been—"

"Look," Louis cuts him off. He tries to smile to lighten the blow but it feels strained on his face. "You don't, like. You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything."

"I'm going to owe you my _life_."

Louis shrugs. "That's not a good enough reason to start being my dad now. Let's not make this weird, yeah? I'm just, like. I'm just your organ donor."

Troy looks relieved. Louis tries to tell himself that he has no right to let that sting.

 

 

Harry is every bit the date he promised. He takes Louis to a posh restaurant that someone Harry knows owns, an American guy called Cal. They've got a romantic table in the corner. Louis currently works part-time at a pub across the street from his flat, so he's feeling a bit off in trousers three years old and faded, but Harry looks great. Harry is great. Louis's spent most of the day in a foul mood and twenty minutes in Harry's company and he feels on top of the world. 

They've gone through all the usual questions: favorite color, favorite food, favorite movie, favorite band. He's told Harry about his mum and sisters and his childhood friend Stan and life in Doncaster. Harry grew up in Holmes Chapel and has one sister and his parents are divorced, but his mum remarried his step-dad when Harry was quite young. He works at a restaurant right in Canary Wharf as a trainee chef. He met Nick Grimshaw because one of Nick's close friends owns the place, and he met Zayn through Nick. He's only ever had one serious relationship and things ended amicably when Caroline moved to New York.

"She's a great woman, but we were sort of at different places in our lives, y'know? Even if she'd stayed in London, I don't think it would've lasted. She wanted kids and I can hardly take care of myself right now, let alone a baby."

"That sounds incredible mature of you both," Louis offers. "I once had a relationship end in a screaming match in Sainsbury's. Embarrassing. Got my groceries for free though."

"As long as you're looking on the bright side," Harry says, and toasts him. They're both drinking water, and Louis's so full of incredible lasagna that he'd quite like to unbutton his trousers. 

"Is this the first date you've been on since Caroline?" he asks, more curious than he has any right to be. 

"Yup," says Harry. He looks nervous for a moment, biting his bottom lip. "Can you tell? Is that something you can tell? Has dating changed since I last did it?"

"You sound like an old man. It's only been a couple of years,. I don't think dating has changed much in that time."

"You never know. Technology these days."

"New-fangled contraptions and such," Louis agrees. Harry grins.

"I do feel a bit weird about not ordering wine or something, though. Would you like wine? I've got to open the restaurant tomorrow morning but I could do with a glass tonight."

"Oh, no, I can't drink." He laughs at Harry's incredulous eyebrow. "As of today, I mean. I'm having surgery and have to go without alcohol for thirty days before."

"Oh, yeah, you're donating a kidney, right?"

"Yeah, it's why I'm back early. My uh, my biological father. He just got through a quite serious infection, actually. He's who I had lunch with today. Things are a bit...strained between us. I haven't seen him since I was about two, and I don't remember him.. It was like meeting him for the first time today."

"Zayn mentioned that things were a bit awkward. You seemed a bit down when you got home," Harry says, brow furrowed.

"It's just a weird situation, I think," Louis explains. "He sort of, like, ran out on us a bit. Told my mum he was going out to pick something up and never came back. He has a wife and children up North. They're staying down here for this specialist."

"It's really selfless of you, giving up a kidney. Especially considering the circumstances."

Louis shakes his head. "I don't think so. I mean, I'm a really good match, apparently. It'd just be like letting him die to say no, wouldn't it?"

"I don't really think so. I mean, it's your body, and your body has nothing to do with him."

"That's pretty much what the shrink I had to meet with said yesterday." He pushes his fringer out of his face and takes another sip of his water. "Anyway, so that's why I can't drink alcohol. I wouldn't mind a milkshake, though, if you've not got other plans tonight."

Harry shakes his head, smiling. "'Course not, idiot. You _are_ my plans tonight. And I love milkshakes."

"A man after my own heart," Louis says, and toasts him. Harry eyes him keenly.

"Maybe," he says. "Maybe absolutely."

They pick up their milkshakes at another restaurant, far more casual. They leave their jackets in Harry's car and sit across from each other in a booth, knocking their knees together under the table. It's cute. Harry's cute. Louis feels well spoiled. When they get back to the flat, he gives Harry a considering look once the car's turned off. "Would you like to come up to our room for a night cap?"

"You're hilarious," Harry says dryly.

"The sooner you realize that, the easier this will be."

Harry rolls his eyes and follows Louis out of the car and up the stairs. Zayn and Perrie are on the sofa watching telly, and they offer sleepy greetings before Louis pulls Harry back to his bedroom. 

As far as first dates go, it's not bad at all.

 

 

Louis wakes up every morning for the next three weeks next to a curly-haired mouth-breathing doofus called Harry. Louis's always been a serial monogamist, one to fall hard and fast and dig in deep, but even he is a little shocked at how seamlessly he goes from dating Zayn's weird friend Harry Styles to _being with_ Zayn's weird friend Harry Styles. He works at the pub most days and Harry usually comes in when his shift at the restaurant is over in the evenings. Louis misses him a lot when he's not around.

He has a couple of quick doctor visits to check up on him and take a urine sample, both of which either Harry or Zayn come along for, and another session with Dr. Baker for his formal evaluation. Other than that he's able to mostly put the impending surgery out of his mind. He's happier than he thinks he's probably ever been, living with Harry and Zayn and seeing his mates all the time in a way they never get to when uni is in session. Niall returns from Ireland right at the beginning of August, and he gets along smashingly with Harry. He and his boyfriend Bressie live in the same block, so they see them all the time. 

One night Niall unveils his big summer project to them. He looks nervous and excited, and Louis's a bit blown away by how good it is.

"Not to sound arrogant, but I sort of make these, don't I?"

"Sod off. You're very pretty though. See what I did here? I love this one."

"These are beautiful," Harry says, awed. "Seriously, this is so cool, Niall."

"He's a genius," Bressie says proudly. "I'm just here to bask in his glow."

"Would take quite a lot of glow, " Louis points out.

There's one picture of him in an old abandoned house in the middle of some farm in the middle of nowhere, Ireland. He spent hours and hours getting makeup done all over his body by an artist friend of Niall's he'd never met before to be a part of the background, blending into the ruins of the house. It's nearly impossible to see him except for his eyes, which are quite enhanced. The real focus of this one is on the other model Niall used most often, a girl with long dark hair called Amy. She's wearing tights and a loose blue dress and bright red stilettos that match her lipstick, smoking a joint, her hand on Louis's cheek and their eyes locked.

"This one's really lonely," Harry says, pointing at it.

It makes Louis uncomfortable, really. Mostly he remembers having to stay still while some dude painted his willy. It does look a bit lonely, though. 

"Yeah, innit? Turned out better than I ever hoped it would. You know that song _Can't Get Started_ by Ella Fitzgerald? It's kinda based on that."

Louis has a text on his mobile from Troy that says _Are you still planning on surgery?_ , as though Louis might have run off on him or something. _Of course_ he wants to send back. _I'm not **you**._ Can't get started indeed.

He curls himself into Harry's side on the sofa, smiles when Harry's mouth brushes over his forehead. He feels wanted. He hates how needy that seems in his head, how this whole situation with his dad has fucked him up so much. He hates doubting himself, and he can't seem to stop.

 

 

Louis's hands are shaking. They have been all day. His surgery is scheduled for five days from today. He hasn't been sleeping well, most of his nights spent watching the rise and fall of Harry's back, listening to him breathe too loud. It's four in the afternoon. Zayn is out with Perrie and Harry is in a pair of black boxer-briefs and nothing else, spreading melted wax over the back of his arm with a tongue depressor. He's on the floor, over an old towel so he doesn't make a mess of the floor. Louis would tell him that their carpet has seen much worse than a little wax, but he can't seem to get the words out. 

He's been dating Harry for almost four weeks now, practically living in each other's pockets, and he's still so goddamn unpredictable that it makes Louis's blood hot inside. He's never been so into someone in his life. It's never been so easy with anyone in his life. His last relationship ended in a dramatic, over-the-top argument that left both him and his ex-boyfriend aching inside and feeling three inches tall. Louis hasn't spoken to him since. He hasn't told his mum that he's having surgery. He hasn't told her anything about it. He's probably not any better than either of his dads, telling lies of omission and never around.

"Are you all right?" Harry asks him. 

"You're the one waxing your arm hair off," Louis points out. "If we're talking about possible instability, here."

"I want to know what it feels like," Harry says easily, shrugging. He covers the patch of wax on his arm with a strip of gauze or paper or something. He looks determined. Louis tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and watches, trying very hard not to laugh. "Ready?"

" _I_ am, yeah. Are you?"

"On three."

Harry screams, just a bit, in a voice several octaves higher than his usual. It's sort of a dog yelp and it devolves into fast and furious swearing. The hairless patch of his arm, still a bit sticky, is bright red and all the hair on the paper thing is gross but oddly satisfying to see, like those nose strips that pull out blackheads. 

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," Harry chants. He's tucked his knees up to his chest and is rocking back and forth, breathing through the pain, arm held out in front of him. "Holy shit. That hurt."

Louis gestures lazily toward the waxing strip.. "It's weird, isn't it, that hair is fine when it's on us or whatever, but as soon as it's off and like, in the drain or the sink or something it's one of the grossest things in the world."

Harry stares at him, and then breaks into the biggest smile Louis's ever seen. "You're so weird."

Louis quirks an eyebrow, gives a dry, "Yeah. Of the two of us, that word suits me best."

Harry shakes his arm out again, clenching and unclenching his fist a couple times. Then he goes about cleaning up after himself, which mostly involves making sure everything is out of Zayn's way in the bathroom. When he comes back he drops onto the sofa next to Louis. Louis's jittery. Harry pulls Louis's hand away from his mouth. Louis didn't even realize he was biting his thumbnail again. The tip is bleeding.

"You're hurting yourself," Harry says. He brings Louis's thumb up to his mouth and kisses it all better. Louis has no idea what it is that does it, but suddenly his eyes are stinging. Harry tilts his head. "What's going on, babe?"

"Nothing," Louis says. Even his voice is shaking. Harry snorts and Louis lets out a little laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Mostly."

"You haven't slept much," Harry tells him. "I know these things because I might be psychic."

"Might be?"

"I'm not, really." Harry looks disappointed. Louis laughs again. His stomach aches. Harry smiles and knocks him gently with his elbow. "I'm not worried, or anything, but if you want to talk."

Louis shakes his head, rubbing at his tired eyes. They feel gritty. "It's not. I mean, it not a big deal, really."

"Lou."

"It just. Like, I know rationally that he was nineteen, and probably terrified. He probably thought my mum and I were better off without him. He was probably trying to do the right thing, yeah?"

"Yeah, maybe," Harry agrees. His voice is very calm.

"And later, when he was older, I was too. So he probably thought he just couldn't walk back into my life, so he didn't try. It's just I've been telling myself all of this forever, since I was old enough to understand, y'know? And it's, I feel like that's valid. Wrong choice, but a like, a valid thought process. Only I keep getting hung up on that one part."

"What part?"

"That he didn't try," Louis murmurs. His chest hurts and he sounds ridiculous. "He didn't even try until he needed something from me. I know it's not me. I _know_ that. It just. Sometimes it really feels that way. He's gonna have part of me inside him for the rest of his life, and now instead of that kid he knocked my mum up with a million years ago, I'm this obligation."

"Louis," Harry says, after a few moments of silence. Louis turns his head to look at him properly. "He's a tit."

Louis huffs a laugh. "You don't even know him."

"Neither do you, and that's his fault. He's a tit and he fucked up, and even if there's some really good reason like national security or something for why he ran out on you and your mum, you're allowed to think he's a tit and you're allowed to be upset, and feel sad and stuff."

"But I'm not like," Louis starts and cuts himself off. "God, this is horrible. D'you know the reason I agreed to any of this is because I wanted to like, to meet him. I wanted him to see me and I wanted him to know I was like, saving his fucking life or whatever, and I wanted to show him that I'm the better man because I'm here when he needs me the way he wasn't. I wasn't even really interested in whether he lived or not, I just wanted to make him feel guilty. I'm a sort of awful person."

"That's not awful, Lou. That's not even bad. It's just human. And that's not the reason you're doing it anymore, is it?"

"No." Louis lets out a slow, shuddering breath and gives Harry a self-deprecating smile. "He doesn't care, though. Part of me was expecting him to like, get down on his knees and beg for the chance to be my dad again, but he doesn't even want that. He just needs a kidney. I don't think I'll ever talk to him again."

Harry curls his hand around the back of Louis's neck, massaging gently. "He just doesn't know you, and it's his loss if he doesn't want to. If he knew you the way we do he wouldn't be able to stay away. Family's thicker than blood and kidneys, y'know?"

Louis can't help but smile, just a bit. "Thanks, Haz."

Harry grins. "'Course. Now let's see what we can do about getting you relaxed enough to sleep."

Later, in bed, Louis lies still, sleepy and well-fucked, body still thrumming. Harry's on his back next to him, fingers idly playing with Louis's hair, eyes mostly closed.

"I reckon I like you quite a lot, Harry Styles," he says.

Harry flashes a smile., visible even in the relative darkness. "I know. And _I_ reckon someday in the not-so-distant future, you're going to wake up one morning—right at sunrise, because that's more romantic—and you're going to say 'I reckon love you quite a lot, Harry Styles.'"

"If you could only be so lucky," Louis drawls.

It's hot, the window unit humming in the background. Harry pulls him in close anyway. He kisses the top of Louis's head. "It'll happen. Just you wait and see."

 

 

"What if I don't wake up?" Louis asks, nervous as hell five days later, wearing a flimsy hospital gown and trying not to throw up. Harry Zayn and Perrie and Liam and Jade and Niall and Bressie are all here with him.

"You're gonna wake up, Lou," says Zayn.

"This is a really standard surgery," says Liam. "I looked it up. And Dr. Wilson. She's done it hundreds of times. It'll be fine."

Louis lies back. They're putting the IV into his hand now and everyone's being shooed out the door by the nurses as Dr. Wilson arrives.

"Bye, Lou! Good luck! You'll do great!"

"We'll all be right here!"

"What if I don't wake up?!" Louis shouts. Harry's head ducks back inside.

"Don't worry, babe. I brought your light saber."

He does wake up. He's loopy and sore and it feels like all of five minutes has passed since he was told to count backwards from one hundred. His tummy hurts. He lifts an hand to scratch it and it's caught between two big hands. Harry's right there, smiling, curls pushed out of his face with a headband.

"Hiiii, beautiful," Louis says. Harry's face just lights up with his grin.

"Hi, Lou. How d'you feel?"

"Good," Louis says. "I feel good."

"I can tell." Harry sounds amused, but Louis doesn't know what's funny. He blinks and it's hard to open his eyes again.

"'s Troy?"

"He's great. His wife dropped by to let us know."

"Good," Louis says. He's so tired. Harry squeezes his hand.

"Go to sleep, weirdo."

"Yeah," Louis mumbles, nearly out again already. "You'll be here when I wake up?"

Harry lifts his hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. "I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere."

 

**THE END**


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